


Botany

by SushiOwl



Series: Steter Trumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Butt Plugs, Crying Stiles, Dom Peter Hale, Dom/sub, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Spanking, Sub Stiles, Subspace, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: "I know how to treat naughty boys."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: Peter/stiles, spanking? Maybe with a vibrator involved? <3

“Peter,” Stiles gasped, squirming where he was bent over Peter’s knees with his toes grasping at the thick strands of the carpet. _”Peter!”_

“Yes, pet?” Peter asked, two of his thick fingers deep into Stiles’s heat. He gave them a twist, and Stiles let out a frustrated noise.

“C’mon!” Was Stiles drooling a little? He felt like he was, but he couldn't wipe at his face because he had been instructed not to move his arms from where they were folded over the small of his back. 

“Is this you asking for more?” Peter murmured, giving Stiles’s gently abused prostate a stroke. “You know only good boys who asking nicely get what they want.”

Stiles bared his teeth for a second. “Fucking fuck me, you fucking fuck, is that nice enough?” he spat at Peter’s calf, which he would have totally bit if he could bend his neck like that.

Peter clucked his tongue, slowly withdrawing his fingers with a wet noise that Stiles was way beyond being embarrassed by. “So, you’re in the bratty mood tonight,” he said, leaning back and propping one foot up on the coffee table to give Stiles’s middle more support. “I’m not surprised, given how frustrated you’ve been since your training session with Deaton.”

Huffing, Stiles didn’t say anything. He hated when Deaton gave him a task and he couldn’t do it right away. It had been simple: make a flower bloom. A flower bud only needed a little push, a little suggestion that the time was right. It was a fucking _flower_ and it should not have bested him, especially when it was already opening by itself as it was. 

So yeah, he’d been pissed off, because he just couldn’t _do it_. He had tried for hours, and Deaton’s only tips had been to relax and focus. Uh, hi? He was a ball of anxiety with ADHD, so fuck you too, guy. Finally he’d given up and left, and he’d come home to the apartment he shared with Peter and then tried to force persuade the orchids that were ready to bloom Peter had by the window. 

When Peter had come home, he had been muttering curses at the innocent flowers, wondering if they would bloom if he threw them off their fourth story balcony. Peter had pulled him close, trying to calm him, but Stiles hadn’t been having it. He’d fought him, not wanting to be coddled, and Peter had let him go, watching him.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Peter had asked, eyes narrowed.

Stiles had thought about it, his head going through a list of a few impossible tasks, before he decided, “A distraction.”

Peter had tipped his had. “Do you want me to take you out of your head?”

When Stiles had nodded, Peter had grabbed him, and it wasn’t long before he had been undressed and in the position he was in now. But this was not the distraction that he asked for. He wanted more, wanted rough and hard and just this side of hurt.

“I know how to treat naughty boys,” Peter said.

Stiles swallowed as he tried and failed to look over his shoulder at him. He felt Peter move, heard the cap of the lube, and then something large and bulbous–bigger than Peter’s fingers–was being pressed inside of him. 

It went slow and stole Stiles’s breath, stretching him wide and wider until his hole slid over the body of it and fit snugly at the base. Stiles took in a ragged gasp. A plug. Why a plug? What was Peter planning?

He found out when Peter’s hand appeared in his vision, a small remote control with a dial on the side in his fingers. _Oh_. Peter clicked the dial up to the first setting, and Stiles shivered at the low vibration, before he licked his lips because he knew the next couple settings would be amazing.

Except the setting never changed. Peter just held him there with barely there pleasure that he couldn’t intensify even when he squeezed his muscles around the plug. He squirmed again, pushing at the carpet with his toes and letting out little noises.

“Peter!” he finally hissed.

“Hm?” was the wolf’s calm response.

“For fuck’s sake, can you–just–?!” He kicked out a leg petulantly.

“Good boys say please,” Peter told him, free fingers running down between Stiles’s shoulders, hopping his wrists, and over the swell of his ass.

“Bad and naughty boys get spanked?” Stiles grumbled back, because he was in that sort of mood.

Peter’s hand cupped Stiles’s ass cheek lightly. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, before he drew his hand back and smacked it hard enough to smart over one side of Stiles’s ass.

Gasping, Stiles jerked forward, pushing with his toes and whining.

“Color, pet?” Peter asked, dragging the pads of his fingers over the heated, quietly throbbing patch of Stiles’s ass.

Stiles sucked in air hastily through his nose a few moments, letting his limbs and back relax slowly, muscle by muscle, until he was limp. All he needed to do was drop his head, and he did. “Green,” he said in a near whisper.

Peter didn’t hesitate, as he never did when he had permission. He laid into Stiles’s ass, hit each cheek alternatively while making sure to cover his whole ass and part of his thighs too. When he stopped, Stiles was panting, and yeah, he was definitely drooling now, and he didn’t know if the moisture on his face was sweat or tears.

The remote appeared again, and Stiles could only whimper a little see Peter’s thumb hitched the setting up to four. Stiles cried out, arching up and grabbing at Peter’s shirt and leg a moment before he remembered his order and folded them against his back again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered, his dick hard as a rod where it hung between his legs. 

He could come from this. He could feel it building, rolling and tugging his balls up against his body. He panted, squeezing his thighs together and whining, because it was drawing near. He was going to get some relief.

But then the vibration stopped right as he came to the edge, and he was left panting as he backed away from it again. He kicked out his legs again with a curse, definitely thinking about biting Peter now. “What the fu--” His angry question was cut off by a cry when Peter started in on his ass again. 

A pattern emerged fast. Peter spanked him until he was trembling, then used the vibrating plug on him, and just as he was about to come, he would shut it off and spank him again. After a while, Stiles forgot was pain was, what pleasure was, how his body worked, only that he was at Peter’s mercy. 

He flopped slack again as Peter turned off the plug again, but before Peter’s hand could come down on him again, he whispered something soft and slightly pitiful.

Peter pulled him around, and his arms slid limp like noodles at his sides as he was arranged gently in Peter’s lap. “What was that, darling?” Peter asked, touching his damp face and wiping away a trail of unchecked tears.

“Please,” Stiles managed to say again, a bit louder this time, his voice absolutely shredded.

Peter pulled him closer, and Stiles smooshed his face into his shoulder. “Of course. All you need to do is ask.” Peter took hold of Stiles’s dick, still almost painfully hard, and turned the vibrator up high. 

It didn’t take long before Stiles was screaming, something in him releasing, and suddenly his blood was music in his veins and he could see nebulas. He could distantly hear Peter calling him a “good boy, such a perfect boy” before he went under.

He didn’t dream, which meant the world to him, and he didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he came to he was huddled against Peter on the couch, being warmed by his own personal wolfy furnace. He grunted and Peter lifted his head, smiling serenely at him. He was about say something about him giving Peter like three orgasms when Peter pointed toward the window.

Stiles looked over, eyes going wide. The orchid, the one that he’d yelled at a bit before, had not only bloomed but had tripled in size and gained about a hundred new blossoms.

“Did I do that?” Stiles asked, a little awe-struck.

“You’re the only one who can,” Peter said, pressing a smiling kiss into Stiles’s freckled shoulder.

“Holy shit!” Stiles cried, jerking up into a sitting position, before he squeaked and fell back into Peter’s arms. “Ow, my butt.” He smiled and swatted Peter’s chest when he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say to me on [tumblr!](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/)


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